Commander Redbeard wrote:"My name is Haribier, Captain of this outpost. My apologies, Captain Anardan. Your trade will be welcome here. I'll send one of mine with you as a guide."

The Crusader soldiers stood aside and let the Forestmen pass, relaxing the grip on their battle-axes. As the Caravan continued on into the mist, a burly Crudader scout holding a spear loosely in his hands fell into the first rank.

J-9
Outside the Crusader city Farburg

As the Forestmen proceeded forward, Reno leaned toward Anardan. "I'm much oblidged, Anardan. You handled that very smoothly."

Anardan simply smiled and nodded.

The Forestmen caravan continued southward past the guard tower and into the city of Farburg. Reno smiled as he stared at the city, for this was the same Crusader town where he, Bjarn, Barbod, Willem and Drakko had hijacked the ship Shadow. His good eye wandered over the new features since he last saw it; the dock had been repaired long ago, and of course the guard tower they had just passed through was new. Before, Bjarn had been able to sneak into Farburg, "borrow" a cart, and return to the other Misfits without detection.

The caravan made it's way to the center of the city to where the main marketplace was located. Aros directed the unloading of wood and Shainya saw over bartering for food and other supplies while Reno again kept records. The trading continued well into the late afternoon, and by that time the Forestmen and Crusaders had become much friendlier toward one another. Age old differences were forgotten and new ties were made as the two newly formed allies traded and bartered for what they both needed most. At last, as the sun sank into the horizon, the last cords of timber was stored and the last basket of food and bolts of cloth was packed away in the cabin. As it was late, the Crusaders invited the Forestmen in their homes and had a merry sup together. Then the Forestmen slept on makeshift cots into the houses of generous Crusaders, glad of a good day's trading.

As Shainya drifted off into sleep, she realised BloodVaine had done one good thing amist his tyranny. He had brought old enemies together.

Radjar strolled along the canals around the city. The sun was setting over the crest of Drullen Bell Keep, casting a golden shadow over the glimmering waters. Rosa stood beside him, her smooth black hair shimmering. Radjar calmly breathed in the wood-scented air, steam jetting from his mouth as he exhaled in the cold November forest.
"Rosa, you will absolutely adore Hemlock. The city is bustling with thousands of people, colourful vendors line the streets, men of all class, race and nationality swarm the streets, eating Dark Forest bread and drinking Dark Forest wine in the Dark Forest air. Never before has my nation seen such an age... throughout both wars we still have prosperity, tales of our heroism abound throughout Dametreos."
Rosa smiled at Radjar's optimism. "We still have a long way to go, Radjar. Abundance and wealth always comes at a price, and many of your countrymen are dead."
"They paid the highest price to give my kingdom what it has now," Radjar exclaimed, looking up to the sky. "And on Loughton, at Valus Naras' tomb, there will be built a great monument honoring all those who died during the Fell and Bloodvaine wars. Their memory, their sacrifice, will be honored."
Rosa admired Radjar's boldness and respectfulness for everyone around him. Certainly, as her, he had seen much suffering in his life. Like Aezazel, he had a wide knowledge of the human condition. But unlike Aezazel, he used it for good and not evil, spreading joy and good will to the nations of Dametreos. Yet in battle he was just like all other men- A beast, wishing to sate its hunger for blood.
A Forestman soldier, plume and collar black to symbolize his status as a messenger, ran up to Radjar.
"Lord Kath, you are requested at the keep immediately!"

Radjar clambered out of his flatboat and entered the gates of Drullen Bell. Elven guardsmen, clad in emerald armor with carved gold Forestmen runes, patrolled the ramparts anxiously. Something was wrong. Radjar could feel it in his bones. He was led into the war-room, and around the great stump of a table many leaders were gathered- Gereld Vos, Jythemite Gladwheel, Fraun Jerlock, Gonderin, and Bjarn himself.
"What is amiss, fellows?" Radjar asked concernedly.
"Radjar, Falconis XXIX has just been declared king of the Black Falcon Empire... and there's more." Gladwheel continued, laying a parchment scroll on the table and unrolling it to reveal a map of the region known as Nehimar.
"Rangers abroad report that Samurai warriors have uncovered an ancient tomb pyramid in the Eastern Kingdom jungles. They entered the tomb a few days after them, after this letter, weeks ago. They have not been heard of since."
"And what significance does this hold?"
Bjarn started. "We also recieved word from Ranger spies in the Knight's Kingdom that the same Ninja stole a tome of Nehimite lore from the Great Archives in Celestius... the tome was known as the Book of Rhaek-Mal-Khan, and it tells of the location of a powerful blade known only as Nosferatu.
"The blade holds power over the corpses of thousands of long-dead Nehimite warriors killed in the ancient Holy Wars between the Knight's Kingdom and the Nehimites. There are a few namely supporters of Bloodvaine who would do anything to gather such a blade..."
"Which is why the Knights Kingdom kept the book hidden," Gonderin finished. "Radjar, this is a grave situation. We must get to the bottom of this, at once."

"Alright Kif, let's show these freaks what a bloated, runaway military budget can do"

"Remember, gentlemen, if we fail at this ruse, all three of use will most likely perish by the hand of the angry mass populace, not to mention Drock will remain stoned forever. If such an event occurs, the Dragon Masters will erupt into civil war, and all the alliances made during the BloodVaine Epic will crumble. If will stumble, the Dragon Masters will return to the old ways, and Dametreos will be that much less safer. Come, we have work to do."

It was arranged immediately, that Jarvick would leave to the west with his men, for the Silboralic. Caimlin would also, on that same day, leave for the east, alone and under the pretense that he was embarking as an ambassador to the allied kingdoms.

The plan was that once Jarvick reached the Silboralic he would teleharm Caimlin and, upon learning his location, would teleport there too.

Caimlin, by this time, would have come to a considerable distance from any civilization and thus be able to keep secret, the necessary operations that would take place there.

Upon arrival to Caimlin's location, Jarvick would teleport again, bringing them both back to the Silboralic. There he would enforce Caimlin's authority before returning, himself to the Dark Dragon's Den.

From the Silboralic, Caimlin would sail to the Dragon Master isle and take control with the aid of Jarvick's letter and the support of those on the ship.

Meanwhile, Jarvick would become invisible and establish his place as Lord Void's shadow.

"Well my friends," Lord Void said before they were about to embark. "The plan is set. Go with speed and luck to both of you."

The to men nodded and without a word, left the room. Lord Void sighed as he watched them go. "So it begins." Finally, pushing aside his worries, Lord Void got down to business. His job was to research the Nugaia spell. Not an easy task since his entire library had gone up in smoke at the Fire Breathing Fortress. Still, Lord Void hadn't kept all of his magic books at the fortress. No, he wasn't that daft. There were other vaults of knowledge in his kingdom and he was certain that among them could be found, the information required.

With that he opened the door and gave a greatting to a heavy set man that was twice Alex's size. He was even bigger than the massive Dordrot!

"Hello Barbod! I have a friend for yee. He says he's looking for Aros."

Barbod raised a quizzical eyebrow at the young man in front of him. "Aros eh? And what would ye have with him, lad?"

"I- I'm a friend of his. Alex Funt. And please, he's in terrible trouble- or at least he was. I haven't seen him in ages."

"Now wait just a bloody second." said Dordrot. "You never said anything about trouble. I thought ye just wanted to stop by and say hello."

"Yes well, I'm afraid I downplayed the situation. He was kidnapped by BloodVaine three months ago. But I do hope to say hello... If I can find him."

"Alex Funt?" said Barbod scratching his beard. "Aye, now I remember. Aros told me about ye. You were in the Crusader guard right?"

"That's right."

"Well then come right in laddie. Any friend of the Regga's is a friend of mine. Though I don't know what you could mean about BloodVaine. He's dead you know. And Aros and Reno have been with me and my men since they arrived in Lord Void's airship. Now maybe it's him ye were thinking of."

"No it's... I mean... " Alex was confused. "They're alright?"

"Well they tyco better be. They left for the Drullen Bell with Bjarn not two weeks ago. Huh, These days I wish I'd gone with em."

Alex ran his fingers through his hair. He was still confused, but what Barbod said sounded promising. "Why don't we start from the beginning. I'll tell you what I know and you can tell me what you know."

"Aye lad." said Barbod with a sly grin. The Bull king reached under his bed and produced a large flask from beneath the yellow covers. "Better close the door Dordrot, so we're not interrupted."

Dordrot moved to the door as Barbod continued. "These legolanders aint bad folks but I fear they don't appreciate the virtues of the common spirits. You haven't any idea how hard it is to get a good pint of grog around here. Why if they found this they'd prob'ly replace it with some of their Black Knight wine, or worse, that champagne rubbish they imported from the south."

"That's right." said Dordrot, taking a seat. "This little number is a Crusader brew that I smuggled in here this morning."

"You do drink, don't you lad?" said Barbod, pouring him a flagon of the stuff.

"Well I-"

"There you are lad." Barbod slapped the pint into Alex's hands before he could finnish. "Put some hair on yer chest, that'll." Dordrot took a long draft from his mug and Barbod did the same. "Black Knight wine may be right and fine, but sometimes this home brewed stuff is the only thing that really hits the spot."

"A little slice of heaven." said Dordrot in agreement. "Just like me mother used to make."

"Now Alex, about our friends..."
~
Walf was home, standing in the exact same place where he used to help his father prepare the meat for sale every day. His father wasn't there anymore. Nor was his mother. Their bodies had been taken away and buried, like so many others found dead in the city. But Walf didn't know this. All he knew was that they were gone, and that he would never see them again.

Now, as Walf scanned the crumbled ruins of the once unmarred butcher shop, he found himself thinking, once more about his parents. Walf's mother and father... They had been great parents. Loving, caring, the best a boy could ask for.

And Walf had taken them for granted. He always was a boy with his head in the clouds. Dreaming of grand adventures and ignoring the people that cared about him the most. The people that he cared about.

Walf had never stopped to wonder how his little escapade might have affected his mom and dad. Why, he hadn't given a thought to how they would feel. Waking up one day to find that their son, who they cared so much for, was gone. Without even a note or an evident reason. Just up and gone.

And how should they feel?

How would anyone feel in their case?

It didn't take Walf long to realize how unthoughtful his actions had been. Even as he knelt there, observing the ruin around him, he could hardly believe he had been so uncaring and apathetic. When was the last time he had told his parents how much he loved them? He did. Walf really did love his parents, but now... Now they were gone, and Walf couldn't tell them.

"Why..." Walf thought to himself. "Why do you have to lose something before you really come to appreciate it?"

Suddenly there was a voice behind him. "Are you ready to come back now, Walf?"

Daimyo wrote:"Which is why the Knights Kingdom kept the book hidden," Gonderin finished. "Radjar, this is a grave situation. We must get to the bottom of this, at once."

M-8
Drullen Bell Keep, Council Room

"What do you suggest?" asked Radjar.

"I think it would be wise to send a few men to investigate." stated Gonderin.

"My Lord...if you permit it, I wish to go..." said Gladwheel. Everyone else knew the unspoken next sentance, For I have no reason to stay here, with no wife nor child.

Bjarn nodded slowly. "Very well, though I see no point in involving the Forestmen in this, we have too much trouble as it is."

Radjar started to speak to volunteer his services, bu then he hesitated. He remembered Rosa's words about he couldn't wander around adventuring forever. The open road called him, but he had a duty to his people...and to Rosa.

"Gereld, would you be willing to accompany Gladwheel?" he asked suddenly.

Gerald looked startled, for he, like the others, had expected Radjar to jump immediatly to go. After a moment he said, "Yessir, I am willing."

"Very good." Radjar turned back to the rest. "Should we send a company of men along as well?"

Bjarn shook his head. "Send all the Dark Foresters you want, the Forestmen are staying to repait their own kingdom." Bjarn's words were hard, and everyone knew he had unofficially excomunicated Gladwheel, and that he did not approve of this new quest.

Willem spoke up to break the chilled silence. "Alas, though I consider this a threat, I fear the Wolfpack cannot spare any men what so ever."

"It looks like we're going alone, then." said Gladwheel, turning his back on Bjarn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Council had disperced an hour ago and Bjarn was in his chamber resting. He coughed and sat up to drick a glass of cool herb tea. As he downed a second gulp a quiet knock on his door cause him to stop and say, "Yes? Come in."

The door opened and Radjar Kath entered, decked out in travel clothes.

"Ah, welcome Radjar. I see you are prepared for your journey home to Hemlock." greeted Bjarn.

"Indeed, Lord Bjarn, I am. The Dark Foresters will be gone from Drullen Bell within and hour. Lord Blackcloak and his clan has already departed." Radjar's voice was stiff with formality.

Bjarn raised a brow. "You have no need to speak so regally in my private quarters, Radjar. What causes this stiffness?"

Radjar coughed and then said, "I have to take issue on how you...dismissed Gladwheel."

"Oh? And why is that?" Bjarn's was merely cool and curious.

"I feel he finds this problem more serious than you...and I think he is correct."

"Yet you remain at Hemlock and send Gereld off instead." Bjarn pointed out smoothly.

Bjarn smiled and nodded. The coolness in the room melted a little. "That is good...a leader's place is at his people. I once wandered about seeking adventure as you did and still want to do. However I stopped, to serve the people I now rule. Rosa was wise to recall you."

Radjar shruggged and smiled. "Yes, she was. However I still wonder on why you were so cold to Gladwheel."

"Gladwheel has suffered much, he has lost all dear to him, even his only child."

Radjar said, "I still feel guilty for that crime."

"Don't be." Bjarn's words were firm, "Azezal was the one at fault, not you. You were merely a tool, let it go."

Radjar nodded, them prombted, "About Gladwheel..."

"I was cold with him because he abandoned the Forestmen. Oh yes, he battled in the Final Battle at Orion's Gate, but his heart wasn't in it, he told me himself. He has lost his love for the Forestmen. He feels it is because of the Forestmen that he lost all. That is why he was so eager to leave, to volunteer on a possibly suicidal mission."

Radjar nodded with understanding, then moved toward the door. "I have disturbed you long enough, Bjarn. Rest well, and may Chodan guide your healing."

"Thank you, Radjar Kath of the Dark Forest. Blessings upon you and the kingdom you rule. May we meet again in times just as peaceful, and much more plentyful."

Great Ranger Hall was a magnificent structure built inside the huge hollow log of a tremendous Jupiterbeech tree, one that had fallen ages ago. The old hall was built far from the loud and busy work in the city, farther out to the swamp in a military stockade known as Caer Jair. The Caer was a circle of huge trees, all tied together by a network of wooden bridges, that surrounded the Great Ranger Hall. It had been named after an old Forestman hero, said to be the founder of the rangers themselves.
As they rode along, Gladwheel seemed unfazed by what had happened earlier. His chest was puffed out, his face carried a look of a determined soldier, and he addressed his rangers with both the tenacity of a veteran and the courteousness of a gentlemen. Gereld admired his etiquette; He wondered if he was the same in the heat of battle, where many a commander lost their cool and desperately tongue-lashed their unit.
Gereld was also fascinated with the Elven warriors which strutted along the grounds, with their tattooed faces, piercing eyes, and grim expressions. He had only met one elf before, Gonderin, who must have been hundreds of years old but never displayed it.
"Gladwheel, pray tell about these elves," Gereld asked attentively.
"Ah yes... some of the few remnants of the ancient Elven bloodlines. When the first Forestmen came to this land, they were all Elves, yet there were no other Elves here. Most of the Elves bred with the humans who were already settled, and in time the human population dwarfed that of the Elves. Thus, only a handful... but a few thousand... remain."
Gereld nodded and scratched his chin. The two men's horses ground to a halt and the overgrown gate of the fortress. Two elites, emerald armor pitted with age, spoke in a foreign tongue with Jythemite, and soon they had opened the gate for them.
"Here we are," Gladwheel announced, grinning. "Great Ranger Hall."
Inside the hall, Wolfpack, Dark Forest and Forestmen blended together. They worked together as if no conflict had ever come between them. Gladwheel greeted each passerby with a boisterous "Hello!" and a wide smile. He then turned to Gereld.
"Gather your Rangers and meet me at the armory within half an hour. The sooner we depart, the better."
Gereld quickly went to the Dark Forest hall, and selected fifty men for their stealth, reconnaisance, and fighting abilities. He then quickly rushed over to the armory, where Gladwheel awaited.

"Alright Kif, let's show these freaks what a bloated, runaway military budget can do"

Anardan and the two forestmen who had accompanied him on the trading mission pored over the ledgers of parchment recording the trade, selecting from the mound of goods the share they would withdraw for their group. After two wains had been filled with good supply of hearty bread, grain, meat, and cloth, he leaned against the cart and took a swig from his canteen.

"We'll stay here for the night and leave tomorrow for our outpost."

The two Forestmen went off to gamble with a group clustered around a large tree-stump table, and Anardan thought of joining them but decided against it. He noticed a several black-and brown clad Scouts watering their horses and drinking beer by a well, and decided to join them. Scouts always had interesting stories.

"Any news, lads?"

The three scouts looked up from their drinking and handed him a beaker, filled to the brim with good Forest ale.

"Some news, m'lord. But time for that later! Come join us!"

Anardan made marry with the scouts for some time, telling jokes and quaffing ale by the pint. Finially, the talk got around to their duties.

"I've been stationed in Knight's Kingdom for who knows how long. Bad buisness going on for us scouts, more and more dangerous for us, wherever we go! Why, Orion here was stationed in Black Falcon territory!!"

"Don't remind me," The scout called Orion shuddered. "I am not going there again. I must mave nearly been executed five times, five! I brought back enough information to keep the top happy, though. It doesn't look good for keeping the peace around here. Falconis XXIX is the new king, and I dearly hope things will go alright for us. But I don't know. I've got information that Falconis is sending raiding parties into Crusader territories, and if he'd attack them, he'd attack us."

The scout shuddered into silence.

Sitting in a midnight glade
Firelight dancing off burnished blade
A Forestman sits
Wondering about the next day
But after three mugs of ale
Let it bring what it may.

Daimyo wrote:"Gather your Rangers and meet me at the armory within half an hour. The sooner we depart, the better."Gereld quickly went to the Dark Forest hall, and selected fifty men for their stealth, reconnaisance, and fighting abilities. He then quickly rushed over to the armory, where Gladwheel awaited.

M-8
Drullen Bell Keep, Forge

Gladwheel was already conversing with a dark-skinned brawny man, specifying which weapons were needed. At the sight of Rodurik, Gereld smiled and said; "Ah, Rodurik, I haven't seen you for nearly a month. All goes well?"

Rodurik leaned on his large hammer and smiled back. "I am well, thank you. My family and I have decided to stay at Drullen Bell, with Lord Bjarn's consent of course. Denderham is too rough a place to raise Trad and Fina...and besides, these forests are home. My wife had Forestmen parents." Rodurik paused and then got down to business. "So, I hear ye need a good many weapons to go on a 'venture. May I see Lord Bjarn's permission signiture?"

"Beg pardon?" asked Gereld, startled. Gladwheel was now glowering. Rodurik shrugged helplessly. "Alas, I have orders from Lord Bjarn not to give out weapons unless they have signed permission from himself. There is a massive weapons shortage, along with everything else, and I can not just be giving weapons away."

Gereld bit his lip, annoyed. Gladwheel continued to glower.

"However, Lord Bjarn has put no limits on selling weapons..." added Rodurik carefully. His eyes shown in understanding, "Lord Bjarn's orders, the Forestmen need all the supplied they can get right now."

"I understand..." replied Gereld heavily, "And I am willing to pay. The Dark Foresters are in no better position than the Forestmen."

Soon the somewhat less friendly transaction was complete, and Gereld and Gladwheel left with the fifty Dark Foresters, with lighter purses and heavy arms.

The reception directly after the coronation was a large and magnificent one. The large ballroom was bustling with nobility of all ranks clustered in groups of four or five, their collective voices making a great deal of noise. At the far end sat the newly crowned king.

Though he self-admittedly did not like his new position, Hindrich could not help but feel a bit proud of himself. He was now the sovereign lord of the Falcon Empire. He had control. But then he hardly knew a thing about ruling anything he quietly admitted to himself. The irony! Here he was – a king now, and he did not trust himself with the power he had. He trusted Durlass though.

At that point Durlass was angrily walking away from a Forestman dignitary. Things were such a dreadful mess right now. Only three ambassadors had shown up – A Crusader, a Forestman, and a Knight’s kingdomer. All three had less then pleasant dispositions. The Forestman was particularly disagreeable, demanding that a ten mile zone be made between Falcon and Forestman lands, to be patrolled by “allied” forces. Durlass had nearly taken off his glove at that comment.

The Marquis ambled around the room greeting people and engaging himself in short conversations. Making his way to the far end, he encountered the Crusader ambassador who was drawing himself a second flagon of wine. Turning around, the man spoke.
“Durlass is it? It is an honor to meet you.” There was something in his voice that did not echo sincerity
“Likewise” Durlass paused for awhile, unsure what to say next. Before he could say something else, the Crusader replied.
“I have been told that several raiding parties have been making their way through our lands. The have been destroying what little crops we have and burning barns and houses.”
“Really?” Durlass said dryly, “I am so terribly sorry. Who are these raiders? Forestmen? Wolfpack? They have been known to do such things.”
The ambassador scowled. “Neither. These raids are conducted by Falcon soldiers. Such an offence means war. I do hope it is a mistake.”
Durlass groaned inwardly. That’s all he needed right now – another enemy. Not that the Crusaders could do anything, but to have another country that was hostile to the Falcons was distressing. “This news troubles me greatly. I can assure you that these raids will stop. They are independent and have had no approval of our government.”
The Crusader looked at Durlass intently for a few seconds. He replied coldly “I do hope they will stop. We will deal harshly with any soldiers we capture.”
The man then turned and left through the large double doors that were open at the end of the room before Durlass could speak again. Most of the others had left already for the large banquet that would be served.

Durlass sighed. How many nations now? he thought wearily. The Forestdwellers were clearly hostile to the Black Falcons now, the Black Knights were still at war, and the Legolander emperor had even declared the Falcon Empire a “rouge state”. As for the other nations, they too harbored ill feelings to one degree or another against the Falcons now. What a terrible mess things were now.

Formendacil wrote:Clutching the chain with his left hand, Jayko shoved at the boulder. It moved slightly. After pushing and prodding and sweating a great deal, Jayko made an entrance large enough for him to get through.

"Okay," he called to Elwen, "grab the chain."

Elwen climbed up the chain, somewhat faster than Jayko had, and soon both were standing on the main level of the long-abandoned Castle.

Their horses were long gone, but there seemed to be no danger present. Somehow, they made their way through the trees, northward out of the forest, towards the Royal Knight border.

The forest seemed content to leave them alone. For the moment. They could feel its malice all around them, and it's glittering eyes on their backs, but none of its denizens made a move against them, nor did the trees remove the path in front of them.

All the same, the sooner they were safely away from the forest, and in no danger of it changing its mind, the better.

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:"My name is Randolph" Randolph said simply. He was not eager to give away information about himself yet.

The old man smiled. "Welcome, Randolph, to the Rebel Resistance Headquarters. I am the Lone Falcon."

G-7
Rebel Resistance Headquarters

Randolph started, then said, "I have heard much of you, sir, but I was not aware of your loyaly to the Rebels."

The Lone Falcon pulled out a chair and motioned for Randolph to take it. He did so, and the Lone Falcon also sat, along with the other persons.

"Loyaly to the Rebels is only on aspect of my life that has occured, Randolph. Now, before you explain your reasons for coming here, let us all get to know each other's names."

As Mayriz, Vanderdious, Forden and Gaffner introduced themselves, Randolph nodded at each one committed each name to memory. He was very good at remembering things.

"Now," the Lone Falcon said, "Why do you wish to rebel, Randolph?"

"I want to know answers." stated Randolph, "Answers to questions King Falconis XXVIII left unanswered. I know vaguely of the ills the Bulls have suffered, and have heard whispters of BloodVaine, but I do no know the whole story. And there is this Martin fellow to consider. Where does everybody stand, and how would it affect my family and territories?"

"Many questions, Randolph, many indeed. I will try to fill you in a best I can, but that will take some doing."

"I'm ready."

The Lone Falcon launched into a long tale, begining with the defeat of the Bulls and the banishment of Barbod, the rightful heir to the Bull throne. More wrong doings of Falconis XXVIII and the Black Falcons were described, and the alliance with the evil necromancy told in great detail. The Lone Falcon left nothing out, and it was dark outside and candles had been lit before the explanation was at an end.

Randolph sat silent for a moment, then said, "I will certainly join the Rebels, Lone Falcon. I want the Black Falcon's name washed clean of blood, I want to see the Black Falcons restored to what they were before the likes of Falconis XXVIII and Durlass tainted the royal name."

The Lone Falcon smiled approvingly. "Very good, what you want is what all of us want, a return to the old and better ways. However that task will not be easy. Durlass must be taken out by what ever means, and Martin also has to be dealt with. Other nobles must be flushed from the system and replaced with those who are not corrupt. We also have to teach Falconis XXIIV of his duty to his people and how to truely king, or, in the extreme, find a new ruler, someone of fresh blood."

Randolph nodded, then asked. "Right, where do I sign in?"

--------------------

It was several hours later and Randolph lay in a bunk, willing himself not to rub at his throbbing arm where a fresh tattoo was embedded, the creast of the Rebels. With each pinprick, Randolph knew he was getting into something he could not back out of until he was either dead of successful. Right now, he wished he could have just stayed home, on his family island, and not meddled in things to big for him. Suddenly resolve filled him. He had sworn to the Lone Falcon that would see this through, the Black Falcon name must be cleared.

Just then Gib turned a corner and noticed a change in the shadows. Could it be... light? Gib ran ahead passing two sets of arches and then with another turn, saw what he was looking for. It was light, coming from a circular hole in the ceiling. Gib raced forward, throwing caution aside. But it was a bad decision, for in a moment, the ground dropped out from under him and he fell.

In retrospect, Gib realized that the opening he had been running towards was in reality, the castle well. This of course meant that the hole he was currently plummeting down through, was the same one he had drawn water from for the last 37 years.

However, Gib hadn't arrived at this conclusion yet. And indeed he didn't care for he was still mid-dissent and in the grip of the sudden shock. In another second Gib hit the water.

The noise of the splash echoed throughout the dungeon.

The water was cold.

Very cold.

That and the fact that Gib had hit the water on his side, put him in a very uncomfortable position. Gib's right leg was numb. He was sure it was broken along with several of his ribs. The pain was excruciating, but Gib had had worse. The thing to do now was to get to shore.

Was there a shore? Gib thought he saw some lights in the distance and making for these, he began to swim. It wasn't long before Gib found his feet scraping rock and then, found his hands on a rocky shore. Groaning, he pulled himself up and out. Gib lay there for a while, unsure of what to do next. His leg was killing him, but it wasn't anything compared to what Azazeal had put him through. Thinking of the demon made Gib shudder.

"Thirty-five years." said Gib, aloud to the darkness. "Thirty-five years without event and now look at me." The hermit's mind went back over all that had happened since the day when his troubles first began. That day when Bargon and Marus had first entered the neverwood.

"Dragons, demons, Iondels and Spiderlings. Grizzle's been captured. Griffin and Jackal are gone.... And me? I'm stuck down on the bottom of a well, with a broken leg. Well, when it rains it pours. Looks like we're making up for all those years of peace and quiet." Gib groaned again. "Well how are we gonna get out of this one Gib? How indeed?"

Just then, the man's thoughts were interrupted by a noise from overhead. It was a sound that Gib knew well.

It was cloudy day. An overcast day. A day that kept the sun's warmth from reaching the frigid earth of the Classic LEGOland. A cold breeze was whistling down from the north. It was a sure sign that winter was on its way.

It was doubtful if the snows would reach the northern regions of the Classic's land, but by the look of things, winter had already fallen on the northern isles. And on the falcon coast, a delicate frost could be found, glistening on every field.

Yes, winter was on it's way, but Griffin couldn't think of that now. He was on a mission. "Find Jackal." That was what he had to do. At that moment, he was following the trail of a sizable group of foresters. He knew they had been foresters because the sparrow had told him so.

Yes, the sparrow. Griffin had caught the small bird not two hours ago. It was a difficult task to get it calmed down, but once it finally stopped crying out in terror, the sparrow proved most helpful. Indeed, the bird was all too happy to provide information when it realized the consequences of not cooperating.

Griffin wasn't sure if he really would have eaten the bird. After all, most of the birds were heading south and the chances of finding another informant would be slim. Still, bluff or not, Griffin had his lead. According to the sparrow, Jackal had left with a large party of foresters, heading north-east. It didn't take long for the hawk to find the tracks and now he was headed north.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whatever happened to Targon?

Good question. Well first, when he awoke, Targon was surprised to find himself in one piece. He was also surprised to find himself in total darkness.

"Hello?" Targon said, groaning. "Hello?"

"Hello Targon." said a deep sinister voice. "What a pleasure to see you again. It's been a while."

It was a short journey home, mainly because the Wolfpack were spurred on by a gnawing homesickness.

"Well, old friend and companion..." Willem said to Graygon, "Home at last. It has been so long. I think it is coming on a year since we left here. So much has happened, companions come and gone. Fewer Wolfpack remain, and our power has waned. But at least there is peace between most factions. For a time, at least."

The Wolfpack slowly and solemnly entered the citadel of the Wolf's Fang, weighed down by painful memories of comrades lost. Willem already felt the weight of leading so many broken souls tearing at him. The war had been so costly for the Wolfpack - so many soldiers dead, spy networks depleted or run out, and a severe lack of gold in the coffers.

The absence of Lord Blackcloak had also taken its toll - the Wolfpack were still deeply divided since the rebellion, and many different Wolfpack political factions vied for power. Willem would have his work cut out for him to simply stay of the Throne of Three Daggers for more than a fortnight...

((Well... My great return to the Roleplay. . Sorry that it isn't of the highest quality...)